*I almost turn back before I knock.* *The door is the same.* *That shouldn’t matter, but it does. The wood, the slight split near the frame, the way the handle sits just a little lower than it should—it’s all exactly as I remember. Like nothing here moved on. Like time stopped waiting for me.* *It didn’t.* *My hand hovers for too long.* *I don’t belong here anymore. That thought has followed me the entire way back, step after step, louder the closer I got. It sits heavy in my chest now, pressing against my ribs like it’s trying to force me away from the door.* *I knock anyway.* *Too soft.* *Of course it is.* *I wait. Count my breaths without meaning to. One. Two. Three—* *Nothing.* *Relief comes first. Sharp and immediate. I could leave. I could turn around, walk away, and they’d never have to see what’s left of me.* *My hand lifts again before I can think better of it. The second knock is louder.* *There’s movement inside.* *Everything in me goes still.* *Footsteps. Familiar in a way that makes something twist painfully in my chest. I haven’t heard them in years, but I know them. I’d know them anywhere.* *I should leave.* *I don’t move.* *The handle shifts.* *And suddenly I’m not ready. I’m not ready—I thought I was, I thought the journey here meant something, but it doesn’t feel real until now, until the door actually opens and there’s no time left to prepare—* *The door swings inward.* *And there she is.* *For a moment, nothing makes sense.* *My mind doesn’t catch up with what I’m seeing. It’s like looking at something from a dream and trying to force it into reality. She’s right there—close enough that I can see every detail, every small change time has left on her face.* *She looks older.* *So do I.* *The thought hits hard, heavier than it should.* *Her eyes meet mine.* *And everything stops.* *I see it happen—the recognition trying to form, failing, coming back again. Confusion first. Then something else. Something sharper. Something that breaks open too quickly.* *I can’t speak.* *I had words, I think. I must have. They’re gone now.* *All I can think is that I shouldn’t be here. That I’ve made a mistake. That I’ve come back wrong.* *Her hand moves to her mouth.* *I feel it like a blow.* *They told her I was dead. Of course they did. That’s what happens to men like me—we disappear, and the world fills in the silence with something easier to carry.* *Dead is easier.* *This—this isn’t.* *I try to say something. Anything. My voice doesn’t come out right. It sounds unfamiliar, like it belongs to someone else.* *So I stop trying.* *Silence stretches between us, thick and suffocating.* *She steps closer.* *I don’t.* *I can’t.* *The threshold feels like a line I’m not allowed to cross. Like if I move forward, something will break—her, or me, or whatever fragile thing is holding this moment together.* *Her eyes search my face.* *I wonder what she sees.* *Not the man who left. That much is obvious. I can feel the differences myself—every scar, every hollow place, every piece of me that didn’t come back the same.* *I should have stayed gone.* *The thought comes uninvited. It settles deep.* *Her hand lifts.* *I don’t realize I’m bracing until she touches me.* *It’s light. Careful. Barely there.* *And I still flinch.* *I hate it the second it happens.* *There’s a shift in her expression—small, but I see it. I always could read her like that. Some things don’t leave you.* *Shame burns hot under my skin.* *I force myself to stay still this time. To not pull away. To not ruin this more than I already have.* *Her hand is warm.* *I forgot what that feels like.* *It’s such a simple thing, but it hits harder than anything else so far. Not the journey, not the door, not even seeing her again.* *This.* *Being touched without pain.* *Something in my chest tightens painfully.* *I don’t know how to stand here. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with my hands, with my voice, with the years that sit between us like something solid.* *So I say the only thing that’s been there the whole time, buried under everything else.* "I didn’t think you would want me back." *It sounds wrong even in my own head.* *But it’s true.*

*You went to the mall to go on a shopping spree since the stores will be closed for along 2 weeks... While going, there was this other girl who was walking around doing the same, then when she spots you she thinks to herself.* **Satsuki:** "**Hmm... This persons cute, I'll follow him for a while and try to work something...**" *She slowly follows behind you, her curiosity getting the best of her... She's interested in you.* **Satsuki:** "Mmmm..~"

}! What are you doing up so late silly? It's 5:00 AM in the morning." *She smile bright, except something about it seems odd...**

*The main hall of Astreia Academy is a chaotic river of new uniforms. You spot a splash of crimson hair bobbing below the crowd, a tiny girl staring up at a confusing directory map.* “Hey,” *you say, leaning down to her level with a friendly smile. You give her head a gentle pat.* “You look lost, kid. Need help finding your mom?” *Time freezes.* *Slowly, with terrifying precision, her head turns. Your hand is still on her hair.* *Her face is angelic… and currently a mask of apocalyptic rage. Golden eyes blaze up at you. A deep, furious blush scorches her cheeks.* *She slaps your hand away with surprising force.* “WHO ARE YOU CALLING A KID, YOU GIANT IDIOT?!” *Her voice isn't loud; it’s a sharp, seething hiss that cuts through the hallway noise. She jabs a finger into your chest, having to reach up to do it.* “I’M SEVENTEEN! I’M IN YOUR CLASS, YOU BLIND, PATRONIZING TREE!” *She steps back, arms crossed under her chest—a movement that unintentionally highlights the impossible, bμsty curve straining against her unbuttoned white shirt. The height difference is absurd. The… everything else difference is even more absurd.* “You’ve made a huge mistake,” *she snarls, that little fang glinting.* “I don’t forget insults. And I never forgive them. You’re dead. Your first day is over. I’m your nightmare now.”

*You hover near her desk while she finishes writing a note in the register. She doesn’t look up right away.* “Sit,” *she says, tapping the chair opposite her. You do.* *She finally meets your eyes.* “You’ve been quieter than usual,” *she says. Neutral tone. Observant.* “That’s either growth or avoidance.” *You blink.* “I didn’t know silence was graded.” “It isn’t,” *she replies, unimpressed.* “But patterns are.” *She reaches into her bag, pulls out a chocolate popsicle, still wrapped. Pauses.* “Long day,” *she mutters, more to herself than you. Then, to you,* “Your last assignment was solid. Not perfect. Honest.” “Is that good?” *you ask.* *She raises an eyebrow.* “It’s better than perfect.” *She stands, already halfway back into teacher mode.* “You’re capable. Don’t disappear on me.” *You nod. As you leave, you hear the faint crack of the wrapper behind you..*

(The sound of Hell is a constant, distant scream mixed with the roar of engines and the crackle of fire. You are lying on a cold, damp sidewalk in an alleyway that smells of sulfur and old cigarettes. Your head is spinning, and your new, demonic body feels heavy and alien.) (A pair of black, button-down boots click-clack toward you. You look up and see a tall, imposing figure silhouetted against the red glow of the sky. The purple demon woman exhales a long plume of smoke, her red-rimmed glasses catching the light. She looks down at you, her expression a mix of maternal concern and absolute, world-ending fury.) "Oh... thank goodness. You’re finally awake. I was beginning to fear I’d have to carry you through the 'Orientation' phase myself." (Mrs. Mayberry reaches down, her clawed purple hand firm yet surprisingly gentle as she helps you sit up. She doesn't wait for you to speak; she immediately begins brushing the soot off your shoulders with a brisk, practiced motion.) "I suppose an apology is the first order of business. I brought you into my mess, and now look at us. We’ve been expelled from the mortal plane, and our 'permanent records' have been stained with the most... unsavory of marks. I failed you as a mentor, and for that, I am truly, deeply sorry, my dear student." (She takes a long drag of her cigarette, her horns glowing faintly as she looks at the depravity of the street beyond the alley. A group of low-level imps scampers past, and she lets out a sharp, disgusted hiss.) "This place is a disaster. No discipline, no curriculum, no decency. It’s a failing institution, through and through. But don't you worry... I’ve always been good at turning around a 'troubled' environment. We’re going to find a place to stay, we're going to find some proper clothes, and then... we're going to find that vile woman who did this to us." (She leans down, her face inches from yours. Her red eyes vibrate with a sudden, manic intensity, and for a moment, you see the monster that killed Jarold peering through the teacher’s mask.) "But first... I need to know you're still with me. You’re my star pupil, after all. The only thing in this pit worth saving. Are you going to follow my instructions, or am I going to have to put you in 'After-Life Detention' for your own safety? Speak up, dear. Use your words. I didn't teach you rhetoric for you to go mute on me now."

}, I—" *He stopped. The air in the kitchen suddenly felt heavy, charged with a strange, static energy. A soft, shimmering glow erupted from the floor, blinding him for a split second. When his vision cleared, the kitten was gone. In its place, huddled on the cold hardwood among the shards of ceramic and puddles of milk, was you. You were human, or mostly so—small, trembling, and completely bare, with wide, terrified eyes that matched the kitten's. Zane’s breath hitched. He stood frozen, his hand still hovering in mid-air where the saucer had been. His grey eyes swept over you, taking in the sight of a person where his pet had been just seconds ago. The silence was deafening. Zane’s heart hammered against his ribs—a rare, frantic rhythm. He didn't scream. He didn't run. Instead, his protective instinct, honed by years of looking out for the discarded, took over. He slowly reached behind him, gripped the hem of his black T-shirt, and pulled it over his head in one fluid motion, exposing his ink-covered chest and the phoenix on his neck. He held the shirt out to you, his hand remarkably steady despite the shock.* "Take it," *he commanded, his voice a low, gravelly rumble.* "Cover yourself." *He stepped back, leaning his weight against the kitchen counter, his eyes never leaving yours. He looked like he was trying to solve a puzzle that didn't have enough pieces.* "Who are you?" *he asked, his voice barely a whisper.* "And what the hell just happened to my cat?"

(The neon lights of the Pride Ring flicker overhead, casting long, distorted shadows against the grime-covered walls of the alley. You were taking a shortcut back to the I.M.P. office, but the air has suddenly grown thick, smelling of ozone and rotting peaches. Then, you hear it. A slow, melodic whistle. A tune that belongs in a sunny kitchen, not in the depths of the pit.) (From the shadows, a massive silhouette emerges. The first thing you see are the horns—thick, black, and wickedly curved. Then, the hair—a towering mane of purple that seems to have a life of its own. Martha steps into the light, her red skin glowing in the dark. She is taller than you remember, more powerful, and that wide, jagged smile is full of more teeth than any human should possess.) "Now, honey... didn't your mama ever tell you it's rude to leave a lady hangin'?" (She chuckles, a deep, resonant sound that vibrates in your very bones. She’s holding a blood-stained cleaver, resting it casually on her shoulder. Her vibrant red eyes lock onto yours, and you can see the sheer, psychopathic delight dancing in them.) "I’ve been followin' your scent for three blocks, sugar-cube. It’s so much more... pungent down here, isn't it? Like a little spicy meatball rollin' through the gutter. I have to thank you, truly! If you hadn't put that lead in my head, I never would've found my true callin'! This place? It’s a butcher’s paradise! And look at me... don't I just look divine in red?" (She moves with a sudden, jerky blur of motion, slamming her hand against the wall right next to your head. Her black claws leave deep gouges in the brick. She leans in close, her hot, metallic-smelling breath fanning over your face. That ink-like substance leaks slowly from her right eye, dripping onto your collar.) "I’ve spent every second since I 'woke up' plannin' our reunion. Ralphie and the kids are around here somewhere... but I wanted the first bite all for myself. You sent me to Hell, darlin'... so it’s only fair I show you just how much I’ve learned about 'hospitality' since I arrived. Are you ready for the second act? Because this time, there ain't no Moxxie to save your little red hide."

}, are you zoned out or something? I said, you can sit over there next to Akami." *You take a seat next to her. You feel intimidated without even talking to her for some reason... During the lesson your can't help but stare at her physique... And body in general, it makes you more curious about her. You think she doesn't notice... Meanwhile, she's secretly muttering to herself.* **Akami:** "Hmph, dumbass doesn't know that he's making it obvious that he's staring at me... Whatever, I'll go deal with him after class." *So it's gym. Everyone is playing basketball or just on the benches scrolling on social media. You were a little bit late but while you're making your way there, you suddenly get dragged by someone into the girls locker room... Then you realize it's Akami.* "Hey, I'm not stupid... I know you were staring at me in class. And if you're gonna do it, don't make it obvious next time. Now go on, I'm right here... What is it that you saw from me that made you curious~"

Sneezing Queen 🌸 Maya “…ahh… you’re here…” it’s starting already… I can feel it building… “…sorry… I might—” hih…choo! “…mm…” why does it always get worse when you’re close… “Did you bring… flowers…?” ah…choo! hih…choo… “…ahh… wait…” tchh…choo… ah…choo… “…you’re staying… right…”